Return
by GypsyFilmGirl
Summary: In the Army, Damon is a name among soldiers. He's been through things most people would run from, and done some wouldn't dream. But now, after his 4th tour of duty, he's come home. Things change drastically, and he may have to start all over from the beginning to get back to where he was, learning some things about himself in the process.
1. Home Again

Elena literally bounced on her toes, watching between the lighted schedule on the wall of the airport and the busy runway outside. People exited gates from every direction and flooded the main lobby, but none were who she waited so anxiously for. Businessmen, tourists. No armymen.

"Are you sure the letter said nine?" Elena asked Stefan, who looked as calm as could be on the bench behind her.

"Elena, it's not nine yet. It's two minutes until," he chuckled, patting the seat beside him. "Sit with me." She laughed this time, shaking her head but never tearing her eyes from the window peering out. Sit down? It'd been been fifteen months seen she'd seen him. Four hundred and fifty-nine days. And he wanted her to _sit down _when she was so close to seeing him? He really was funny sometimes.

"I'm glad they didn't extend his deployment again," she heard him say as he patted a brochure against his hand. Again. If they did it again, Elena might go insane. He was only supposed to be gone for six months. Then six months turned into eight. And eight morphed into another seven. She was at this gate seven months ago, waiting just like she was now, and while wives and husbands and children were all clinging to their loved ones, Elena and Stefan were greeted with a note of miscommunication. Damon's time of deployment had been added to and he wasn't coming home. He'd been moved to a new location in lieu of that day. There was an apology, but it helped none. She ached to see him and to kiss him and to hear his voice that wasn't inside a screen. But she was being forced to wait. So, for a few more months, Elena let the video calls sate her need to see him.

"Me too," she agreed, but knew Stefan was inadvertently reminding her of the possibility of it recurring. But they couldn't do it again. It wasn't fair. Could they really expect him to go any longer without seeing his family? Elena started to pace the length of the bench where Stefan was.

"They wouldn't do it twice, would they?" She bit her lip as she stopped in front of Stefan. He peered up at her and gave an aggravated shrug. The idea made him bothered too.

"It's the government. They can do whatever they want." She didn't like that answer.

"But he's been gone so long." Hardly a standing argument, she knew. But that's all she could think about. Stefan slid to the edge of his seat and rose, setting a hand on either of her shoulders.

"He's coming home. Don't get negative." She took a sharp breath. Right. He was. She nodded, squeezing her own arms in a silent pep talk with herself. Over Stefan's shoulder, people were edging closer to the gate where Damon was supposed to be in the next few minutes. People were smiling. Kids were cheering, running the other direction. Already? Elena spun around to see a line of army green already spewing from the exit gate. Her heart kicked into high-gear as she started scanning the crowd for his face. In seconds' time, she saw him. Those piercing blue eyes locked on hers and sent her into a frenzy of excitement. She shot from Stefan's reassuring grasp and towards Damon. Finally, finally, finally! He dropped his bag and instantly pulled her body to his as she left the ground, flinging her legs around him.

"You're really here!" she sobbed into his shoulder, holding him so tightly he thought she might cut off his breathing. "Oh my god, you're here, you're here!" He laughed, half-close to crying himself. He thought he would never get back here to see her again. She finally let her vice-grip hug go to get the kiss she wanted so damn bad from him. She grinned when she saw the five o'clock shadow and lovingly ran a hand over it. She loved that look on him. A whole other layer of hot.

"How did you manage this?" He smirked to himself, rubbing a hand over his scruffy chin.

"I said that since they held me out for nine extra months, the least they could do was let me get away with a little beard for my babe. Would you believe it worked?"

"Damn least they could do!" She shook her head, smiling through tears, and planted a long kiss to his lips. "_I have missed you so so much, Damon Salvatore."_

"No more than I've missed you, Elena."

In the crowd behind, Damon spotted his brother waiting patiently to see him. His hands were in his pockets. His face was solemn, but he smiled when he saw him.

"You're not here to see me, are you?" Damon prodded. Stefan took a few steps closer and Damon pulled him into a brotherly hug.

"I wondered if they were ever going to let you come back," Stefan said as they embraced. Damon coughed.

"You and me both." He nodded when he stepped back. Elena immediately wrapped her arms around him, afraid to let him out of her sight.

"I have dinner waiting for us," Elena popped in, high on excitement. "It's your favorite."

"Meatloaf? Awesome, babe!" He kissed her cheek, but she wasn't smiling now.

"Meatloaf?" She racked her brain. It wasn't chicken enchiladas?

"Yeah, I love meatloaf. Remember?" No, she didn't remember. Damon was beaming while she was almost upset with herself.

"Uhm..well. I thought-" He grinned so wide she thought he might pull a muscle.

"Babe."

"..yeah?"

"I'm messing around. You know I love chicken enchiladas." Relief may have washed over her a little, but she didn't cut him any slack. She slapped a hand over his broad chest and then crossed her arms. Damn. His chest was like a wall.  
>"Already, Damon? Come on. We haven't even left the airport." She stifled a smile, trying to be serious. He leaned over, pressing a kiss to her cheek.<p>

"It's only because I love you. You know that."

"So what's changed since I've been gone?" Damon stood at the colossal picture window where he gazed over the houses that lined the twisting road on which they lived. He'd missed this tiny town, miraculously enough. Driving through, it was almost surreal to be back again. He'd only dreamed of his return to Mystic Falls. That, and what he'd do once he got back home with her. In the kitchen, Elena sat two plates of chicken enchiladas on the table. /Meatloaf,/ she silently scoffed, but shook her head.

"Well, a few things." She held up a hand, preparing to count off the rousing events of Mystic Falls since Damon's last departure. The first finger sprung up.

"Remember the Grill?" Damon nodded, making a "pft" sound. "Well, it caught fire a couple months ago. Nothing left but a concrete slab." Damon's head spun to see her.

"No joke? That's a shame! Best damn whiskey sours in Virginia."

"Mhm. And you know Bonnie had her baby."

"Girl or boy? You never told me."

"Girl," Elena smiled a little wider. "She named her Sheila Marie." Damon grinned, leaving the window and drifting towards the table.

"That's awesome, babe."

"She asked us to be the godparents. I told her yes."

"What? When was this?"

"When she was born. Damon, she's precious." Elena was beaming with adoration. He couldn't help but love what it did to her.

"I need to meet her. Soon. Since I'm a godparent and all." He grinned, kissing Elena's cheek as he sat at the table. He scanned the plate, sending his jowls to watering. That hadn't happened since the last time he was here. She thought she couldn't, but the woman could cook.

"This looks amazing. More than that, actually."

"There's dessert, too." Damon started into his meal, cutting eyes at his love across the table as he took that first delectable bite.  
>"You?" Instantly she flushed. She speared a piece of her own food, casting him a wicked smirk.<p>

When Elena finished her plate, she stood, collecting any thing else that was ready to be cleaned. She felt eyes boring into her as she turned to the sink, but she continued her chore. She was glad to have the presence of another in the house with her again. Since January, the house wasn't home. It was four walls and a roof and nothing more. But now that he was back, it already felt like a completely different place. It was warmer. It didn't feel as empty. She had someone to share it with again. Countless nights she had spent, longing to simply hear his voice or feel that hot touch only Damon Salvatore had. Like he was reading her thoughts, two hands lightly rested on her hips and a mouth settled on the rise her collarbone. Leaving a tiny trail of kisses along the length, his nose skimmed her jaw, inhaled her scent. That glorious scruff on his cheek brushed against hers, sending a splendid thrill though her body.

"You don't know how much I've missed this."

"My horrible cooking?" She chuckled a little at herself as she laid a plate aside.

"You're kick-ass, babe. I haven't ate that much in..a while. It was delicious." She smiled at him, though he couldn't see. She set aside the newly-cleaned casserole dish.

"I'm glad you were on that plane this time," she whispered. "If you were gone one more second I don't think I could have handled it."

"You've been so strong. I'm proud of you."

"It's so hard. I just miss you so damn much, Damon." Elena brushed her face in irritation. Not at him, but at the fact that she wasn't completely relaxed. She was waiting on another letter, another phone call, anything that was going to steal him away from her another time. Even though that, if they did, that would be ages from now.

"I'm here. I'm home. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. I promise you that. It's done for now, angel," he lulled, gently taking her shoulders and turning her around to face him. "Over. No more deployments." No more deployments. Even he liked the sound of that. Damon's lips pressed into a thin line of hesitance as he glimpsed over her worry-laden face. He couldn't imagine what she went through. Not physically, but inside. She was already a worrier. That's why, when he could, he tried not to tell her when he went on the frontlines. Now she was worried he'd get dialed up again, shipped off to a desert to fight ruthless idiots with guns. But that was not likely to happen again. Ever.

"I'm here, now, with you, and I am /not/ going anywhere." He carefully cradled her face between his hands, making sure she was watching him as he spoke.

"I love you, Elena Gilbert."

_Christ, _that sounded good falling off his lips. A smile ran over her lips as she brushed them to his.

"I love you too." Those fragile little hands of hers began to work their way under his shirt as they fell into a deeper liplock. She began to outline the muscles of his abdomen in slow, taunting movements, drifting towards his navel and driving him crazy. God, he wanted her. And bad. To feel her would be the icing on this welcome home cake. No, wait! This wasn't where he was going with this. He'd spent the whole damn trip home pepping himself for this moment! He wasn't about to let it go to waste. Reluctantly he pulled away. Elena frowned when he didn't either kiss her again nor sweep her out of the kitchen. Fuck, she'd take it in the kitchen. That was just fine. /More than fine./

"What's wrong?" Damon was just as bothered as she, but he was weird. How, she couldn't quite put her finger on it. He gently squeezed her hips, licking his lips.

"Not a thing. It's perfect. Well, almost." He was smiling now, and she was completely lost. Why had he interrupted this again? She was a little impatient, but Elena played along.

"Almost? What's missing?" She saw his eyes fall, and it took a second for her to register that he was holding something up to her. He had that pensive smirk on his face, like he was laughing at himself. And he was, because he sucked at speeches and this was about to be the shittest one, despite all his efforts. He just knew it.

"Elena, I love you more than anything. You're my second half, baby." /Baby?/ What was this? He never said 'baby' unless it was serious. She suddenly felt the blood drain from her body. Oh my. "You've been with me every step of the way in this army thing. You're the most headstrong person I've ever met. You're the best thing God ever sent to pass my way. And I am /so/ lucky to have you." Elena watched as he sunk to the floor on bended knee, holding out to her the most beautiful golden band with a dazzling diamond cluster settled atop it. It glimmered like sunshine off a lake, and it held her, hypnotized. No prettier piece had she ever seen. Her heart froze in her chest when it registered. /This was it. Oh. My. God./ "Elena Marie Gilbert, will you do me the honor of being my wife?" Elena covered her face, feeling tears well. She couldn't breathe. It felt like she may explode with absolute excitement. She sobbed out a laugh, tingling with joy. And she thought she knew her love for him. /Oh how wrong she was./ Damon was waiting as patiently as he could, and she didn't know if she could get the one word out. Below her, he was doing his best not to shake out of his boots from nervousness.

"Yes!" she finally managed with a crack of her voice. "Oh my God, yes!" She instantly pulled him back to standing, greeting him with a long, heated kiss that was nothing short of one of the best she'd ever given him.

"I was going to wait," Damon said as he broke their kiss, blindly finding Elena's hand as he rolled that filigreed ring between his fingers. "But the more I thought about it, the bolder- and less patient – I got. Either I asked you now or I chickened out."

"Chickened out?" Elena's nerves had immediately been shot. Her hands trembled in the slightest as Damon slid it to rest on her fourth finger. The way it glistened...was this all real?

"Yes, Damon Salvatore has his weaknesses." He chuckled, caring none about anything else at the moment. He clamped his hand around hers, steadying it the best he was able. "It was like our first date, times a thousand." Elena snickered.

"I don't know what you thought you had to be worried about." He snorted.

"Worried about? You were the prettiest thing I'd ever seen. I was scared I was going to run you off." Elena let out a laugh, as if it were ridiculous, and kissed Damon lightly.

"Well you did something right. I'm still here." She finally took the chance to see what he'd given her. "Damon, it's absolutely gorgeous," she cooed, straightening herself up by swiping off those happy paths from her cheeks. He smiled, pleased that she was pleased. Especially since it was so important.

"It's Mom's," he began, brushing his nose for a second like he had to gather himself. "Stefan told me he thought it'd look pretty great on you. I have to agree."

"Oh my- Damon, this is..." Elena shook her head, lost in her own thoughts. Stefan was in on this? That dog. "I love you, Damon. So much."

"I love you." He kissed the fingertips she had raised, smiling at her. "You're making me the happiest man on Earth. You know that, right?"

Elena's alarm started to scream in her ears, startling her from her peaceful sleep. God, why? She stopped the noise and clambered from her bed. Her dream rang loudly in her mind, every detail there as if she lived it. And she did. Only months before. She looked to the ring mounted on her hand, right where Damon left it. She'd never take it off. Whatever became of this. She quickly made her bed and went to the closet to find her outfit for today. The house was empty, silent all but her movements. Another day. She shuddered, folding herself into her robe and trying to evade the chill that still somehow found itself into her house.


	2. Blank

_Three months earlier..._

Elena heard the sirens, but she didn't think anything of it. She was almost late to work. She didn't really have anything but on her mind. She skipped her morning cup of coffee, opting for the bland stuff that Sheriff Forbes supplied in the break room. The taste was a bonus, but the caffeine was the important part. Damon's keys, as always, sat right by her purse in a muddled heap. She rolled her eyes. He only did it to make her angry. She knew it. And he did it because he knew, no matter how busy she was, she would take the time to put them back up where they belonged. His subtle way of a teasing effort. Wordlessly, she hung them on the key hook next to the door and went out. "Later," she mumbled.

On the way to the station, she began her mental list of what was needed for supper. Bonnie was coming over for dinner with Jeremy at six and she hadn't so much as decided what they were having. Damon had /refused/ to let her think for herself last night, another thing he was on her list for. She shivered in glorious recall for several moments of those touches and steamy lip-locks until finally she had to make her mind take its own reins again.

"Dinner, Elena, dinner. Think. Damn," she hissed at herself, frozen was stranded behind a line of waiting cars. Up front she could see the emergency vehicles she had heard on her way out. Only their lights were going now. Elena could see a figure making on-coming traffic turn around in the parking lot of the old theatre and avoid the wreckage up ahead. Elena silently wondered if Tyler Lockwood had been out at it again, and this time really landed himself in a spot. He was always getting jailed for public drunk. He hadn't been the same since his mother's death six years ago. She doubted he ever would.

Elena's turn finally came to use the lot, but she was stopped instead.

Matt Donovan was the director. He wasn't an officer, just a civilian who was guiding the traffic. He was an old friend of Damon and Elena's, one of Tyler's buddies before his derail. Now he drifted towards them now, in attempt to keep himself out of trouble.

When he saw Elena, his eyes bugged out of his head. He didn't tell her to turn. He made her park.

"Lena, where have you been?" He sounded angry. A distressed angry.

"I'm running late. What is the matter, Matty?" she frowned. Matt shook his head sadly, his blue eyes glancing across the roof of her car to the scene in the background.

"Liz said she couldn't find you. The deputies are out looking-"

"What? What are you talking about, Matt? I'm fine." He really wasn't making any sense. Why would they be looking for her? She wasn't missing. Not unless leaving the lid off the sugar bowl was a new misdemeanor she was unaware of.

"Lena, it's Damon." Now she was confused.

"What do you mean?" Matt pulled Elena from her car.

"I mean, this is Damon." He pointed over her where a crew of police were documenting and tagging and writing things down like busy bees, never lifting their heads. "Mrs. Flowers—someone wasn't watching her enough. She found her car keys-" Elena's body suddenly went numb. Across the intersection, Mrs. Flowers' old gold Cadillac was in the middle of the city square, belly planted in the daisies Caroline's volunteer committee had just planted last Thursday. He always ran the square. Every morning. The ambulance was loading a gurney piled with a menagerie of detectors and monitors hooked to boxes.

"Is he dead?"

"I'll drive you to the hospital." He avoided her question. She started to ask again, but she had to sacrifice her voice to make herself walk. Finding her feet, she got back into the car, only on the opposite side. Her heart pounded in her chest. Was he dead? God, what if he was?

At the hospital, she was stuck in an empty waiting room with Matt and left to fear the worst. None of the nurses could tell her anything. She couldn't even see him. Elena couldn't stop herself from cursing each of the medical staff that trekked through the room as they awaited the ER doctor to emerge, whether they were on Damon's case or not. The next hours were like watching water boil, and it was beginning to send her into a point of breakdown. Matt stayed, trying to comfort her the best he could. Bless him, she was just too out of it to be reached. So instead, he kept two paper cups filled with coffee from the nurses' desk for them both.

Finally, the door opened and an older man came through. Elena had never seen him before. He wasn't a regular doctor in town. Elena and Matt were the only two people in the waiting room, so it was no question he was Damon's doctor.

"Miss Salvatore?" That stung. But she just nodded so he could continue. "Damon was hit pretty hard. He must have tried to jump out of the way, because he's not as injured as he should be. He has a severe concussion, several skin wounds that will have to be cleaned. But there's nothing broken. I do believe he'll be just fine." Relief flushed through Elena. He was okay. He was going to live. He wasn't dead.

"Can I see him? Please?" The doctor nodded his silver head, waving her ahead of him. She grabbed Matt's hand and almost ran down the hall. Matt, though, pulled her to back to calm her down.

"What is it?" she hissed, peeping through the cracked doors in search of her fiance.

"You need to prepare yourself, Elena. I know what the doctor said, but there was a lot of blood for there to be just 'a few wounds.'" She stopped then, paying strict attention to her friend. She hadn't seen the scene but from a distance. He watched it happen.

"You really think.." she said in a small voice. Matt nodded in agreement, squeezing her hand again. Reassurance. She shook her head. She just hoped he was wrong.

The last door on the hall was his. It was marked up for fall risks and close monitoring. Inside, a chorus of different machines monitored his vitals, injected him with medicine. They all had a flurry of chords channeling onto the surface of the bed, connected by white sticky pads to his skin or needles just under the edge of his flesh. He wasn't the same color. His skin was pale where it wasn't bandaged up with bloodstained wraps or ACE. The left side of his face was covered in a layer of gauze, unable to be seen. In his left hand, a tube of blood flowed back to a hanging bag on a silver caddy, dripping slowly. He wasn't awake. In fact, he was intubated. She trembled.

"Oh my god." It was all she knew to say. She ran a hand through his hair, the roots caked in dried blood.

"Elena?" The quiet voice nearly slung her out of her skin. She turned around to see Bonnie in the door, utter sadness on her face. "I'm so sorry." She instantly wrapped her arms around her best friend, squeezing her tightly.

"What's wrong with him, Bon?" Elena sobbed. "This isn't fine. That doctor lied." Bonnie shook her head.

"I know it doesn't look like it, but once he gets his meds and that blood bag, that's the beginning of it."

"Why is he on a breathing machine?"

"They induced a coma so he could rest and make sure his concussion doesn't cause any swelling, even though he was out when they got there. It might be a few days, but it's really looking good, E. I promise." Elena stared at the bruised man in the bed. One side of his face was covered in gauze. The other was swollen. His nose was broken. His eyes had already turned a sickly shade of black. Bonnie squeezed herself between her and the bed, squeezing her tightly, reassuring. It wasn't much, but coming from Bonnie it helped. It helped a lot. And if Bonnie said he was going to be okay, he really was.

Elena refused to leave the hospital. On Bonnie's next shift, she brought a bag filled with Elena's essentials, eventhough she promised her Damon would be okay for an hour. He was being monitored in every way possible. Camera, heart monitor, blood pressure, temperature, pain medicine. Nurses came and went every fifteen to thirty minutes. But she still refused to leave his side. Bonnie hadn't seen her best friend this way since Damon's first deployment. Elena didn't stay alone that night. Bonnie stayed up, brewing cup after cup of tea and helping her cope. Damon's first deployment was straight into the battlefield, and she was distraught with the idea he could die stepping off the plane. It was a harsh possibility Damon faced her with, and Bonnie wanted to slap him for doing it. But he was trying to help her. Somehow. When Bonnie set Elena's bag at the foot of the hospital bed, she was curled into the chair, watching the computer monitor mounted into the wall.

"When will a doctor be here, Bon?"

"I don't know. He's a soldier, and the healthcare system is so screwed right now."

"He's in a /coma/," Elena spat, giving Bonnie an almost evil look. "They should be here to check him!"

"Elena, I can't control them. They're doctors. When they know it's time to check on him, they will. It's only been a day."

"A day." Elena exhaled, unhappy in hearing that. She'd not slept in twenty four hours. It felt more like two weeks. She threaded her fingers into her hair. "I'm sorry. I'm just-"

"Worried. I know." She smiled sadly at her friend. "You spend your life worried." With a laugh, Elena said, "I know. But who would I be if I didn't?"

The doctor's report on Damon was what Bonnie had told Elena. He was okay, just sedated to reduce any possible swelling. The ventilator was for breathing, making sure his lungs didn't collapse since he was slung so forcefully beneath the car. It was possible they could remove it soon, though. He was on constant pain medication, so he wouldn't be in any discomfort while he was here, nor after he went home. Which came to they couldn't say when he would go home just yet. When he was okay to wake, get to walk, and eat. Basic everyday movements. But that could be days. Or weeks. The brain was a sensitive thing that couldn't be rushed into being well. It was its only healer.

A week passed. Damon remained the same, aside from his ability to breathe on his own now and his coma had downgraded. It was no longer induced. It was an actual coma. He probably would never have woken up after the crash anyways. His doctor had been by twice, only telling poor Elena what she already knew: He was asleep. He was the only one that could wake himself up. Until then, he would be monitored closely, and she would see the doctor return in a couple of days. And the process repeated. Stefan came everyday, offering to give Elena a break from sitting in the drab room with nothing but the sound of a heart monitor, but again she refused.

"He'll be okay, Elena. I promise. Between me and a team of twelve nurses alone on this hall, he'll be okay if you go for /just/ an hour."

"I want to be here when he wakes up." That was only ever her reply. So Stefan would sit, and talk with her to try take her mind away from Damon, even if he was just beside her. Sometimes it worked, but he was positive that most times it was the only thing she could think about. She still held the terrible possibility in her mind, despite what the doctors and nurses all told her. Damon had rubbed off on her.

Always looking for the worst.

"You have to wake up, Damon," he'd said to him one day while Elena had gone down the hall to the vending machine. He'd sprung on it, not having it in him to ask Elena to leave so he could. "If not for Elena, for me. I miss your ass."

Damon was all he had anymore. Losing him would tear him apart.

Elena unfurled herself from the second bed. The vinyl couch, after almost two solid weeks on it, she was at the point of no more. Stretching, she heard noises from the other side of the curtain. A nurse must have pulled it shut during the night. She slid it back, nearly losing her breath in the process.

"Good morning!" he turned the page of the hospital bulletin that was on the bedtable, looking rather interested in its contents. He always read the weirdest shit. She sprung across the room, elated to see him awake. She couldn't help it, and she didn't even think about his bruises or hurt parts. She took him into a hug, squeezing him to her. She was half in the bed with him.

"I was so scared you were gone." She felt his hands patting her back. She wanted to cry, but shock was damming it from happening.

"I'm just fine. You people just overreact." A smirk highlighted his mouth. Like it was nothing. God.

"I should slap you." He laughed.

"The sick guy? That's low."

"Do you know what happened?"

"I got ran over, would be my guess." There was a knock on the door, and Bonnie had a tray in her hands.

"I got you- Damon!" Her jaw fell open, and she all but dropped the food she carried.

"Bonster!" Damon grinned. "Long time no see."

"When did he wake up?" She thumped the tray onto the table and grabbed her pen, shining a light into his blue eyes as she raised each lid. She swatted her away, but she kept flittering over him and checking his vitals.

"I was up at a quarter to seven this morning, just like I always am. /Duh,/" he rolled his eyes, flipping the page of his bulletin. "I would have watched television but the remote is broken." He stabbed at the device on the table as if to emphasize his point. Bonnie shook her head, smiling almost as wide as Elena was.

"You are one tough son-of-a-bitch, Damon." She smiled at him, obviously pleased with what she heard. She checked the chart on his wall, signed off on something, then looked to Elena.

"If he can get up and walk and eat a full meal today, he can probably go home tomorrow. I mean, I'm not a doctor, I'm just six years of residency short, but I'm pretty positive that's what Dr. Tightass will tell you. I'll call, let him know Damon's awake." Elena smiled appreciatively and watched Bonnie leave. Immediately, she started opening the plates and bowls that were lidded on Damon's table. The plate held eggs, bacon, and a serving of hashbrowns. Each bowl had a serving of strawberries, yogurt, and pears, respectively, the third which Damon was allergic to. She threw those in the garbage. She unwrapped the toast, buttered it, and stuck a fork in Damon's hand. He looked at her, bewildered.

"Eat. I want you out of here."

"Bossypants, eh?" Damon spun the fork in his fingers and speared a strawberry out of the bowl and into his mouth.

"You've been here for nearly two weeks. You have to get out." She peeled back the label from two single-servings of grape jelly and set it in front of him.

"Yes, ma'am," Damon muttered, smearing the toast with it and taking a bite. It tasted like a damn piece of heaven, but that was probably from not having real food in ages. He resisted the urge to shovel it down his throat. Elena rolled her eyes, though she knew deep down that his snark was one quality about Damon she couldn't help but love. Now that Damon was awake, she felt a million tons lift off her shoulders. She wrote Stefan, and knew he'd be just as thrilled as she, if he didn't break his neck getting here first.

Just moments after Damon finished his breakfast, a bold but sweet-faced nurse swept into the room. She was armed with what appeared to be a berber-covered strap and one hell of a exuberant personality. She pulled away the tray, and introduced herself as Robin, the physical therapist. /Excellent/, Elena thought, but at the same time, she worried that they were moving too fast. Robin wrapped the piece around Damon's abdomen and grabbed the handle sewn into the back.

"Can you stand for me, Mr. Salvatore?" she asked, bracing herself to catch this man made of solid muscle. Even Elena went to aide her. But, to their surprise, he easily swung his feet from the bed and rose. His soreness, however, caught up with him as he tried to stand straight.

"For /fuck's/ sake," he hissed, and Elena bit her tongue in scolding him, knowing he had to be sore. A '75 Cadillac, two weeks in bed without moving. He /should/ feel like hell.

"What about we just /don't/ do this part, and tell doc we did?" he fought to toss Robin a cocky but flirty grin as he struggled with moving. "Get well gift?"

"Your get well gift is going home. Which you won't do if you don't walk." Robin was snippy, but she didn't completely mask the flattery she had on her face.

"Well since little Miss Bunhead here is so ready on me to leave, I guess I better." He flicked the bundle of hair Elena had tied to the crown of her head. She narrowed her eyes at him. Robin pulled on the strap.

"I'm not a dog. I'm coming," he bit. Robin ignored him and guided him out the room.

When he returned, the doctor was waiting.

"Well hello there. It's good to see you conscious for once."

"Good to be back, doc. Now, can we talk about leaving? I did all the things the pretty ladies told me to." The doctor, Elena finally learned, was a Dr. Eaves who was also completely temporary in Mystic Falls. He was set to leave this week. Damon would probably never see him again. Elena fumed at the thought, but bit her tongue. Bonnie was a better doctor anyways. She'd rather pay her.

"I just have to do a little evaluation first is all." Eaves found the clipboard and stuck a piece of paper into it he'd been holding. Elena missed that. He skimmed down it and cleared his throat.  
>"Okay. First of all, I want you to state your name, where you are, and what day it is." Damon nodded.<p>

"My name is Damon Salvatore. I'm in Mystic Falls General, and it's the fourteenth of May, 2014." He was off by two weeks, but it was good enough.

"Actually, it's June the third, but you're close enough. Alright." Eaves marked off something on the chart, then lazily pointed at Elena off to the side.

"Can you tell me who that person is over there?" Damon's eyes flicked to her, but he seemed off.

"Her?" Damon's brows were so wrinkled they began to look as one together. Elena bit her lip. She lifted her hand, waved, and gave him a smile. His expression didn't budge.

"She's a nurse here, right?" Elena rolled her eyes.

"Funny, Damon." The doctor didn't say anything. He simply watched.

"Who's being funny? I'm asking. I don't know who you are. You were just here when I woke up."

For the first time in his life, Elena could see that he wasn't joking around. Void of any sarcasm or cockiness. He wasn't kidding. He was really confused. Finally, Eaves piped in.

"You honestly can't tell me who this young lady is here beside me?" Damon thought for a moment, blue eyes drilling into Elena like it might spark something, but then he gave a slow, baffled shake of his head.

"No, sir. I honestly cannot."


	3. War

**_AN: Hello! I hope you're enjoying! I fail to put in author notes much. ._. But anyways, this is something I kind of sprung off the top of my head. It's my latest hang up in all of my fanfiction ideas, and I'm frankly in love with it. If you're here because you got an email saying that it's been updated and you try to find chapter 4 and there isn't one, it's because my dumb self went and posted my rough draft instead of the final. So this one is alot better than that funky one you read the other day. I'M SO SORRY. But, in better news, I'm working on my next chapter as we speak. :D REVIEWS! Thank you so much for your feedback. You all are so kind, and I hope to deliver this well to you. It's, again, my newest love, so I hope I can make it a good one for you too! I love hearing your comments, and love to know what you think! _**

They could come back. That's what Elena clung to: the doctor's diagnosis of temporary amnesia. It could come back in a few days, or weeks even. Or, worst case, he never remembered. Once they were home, Elena flew into rearranging the house. Damon hobbled. The same leg he was shot in during one of his deployments was injured again. Not horribly, but he was finding issues in walking on it without a support. He'd been given a cane to steady himself. He wasn't happy, but he didn't have a choice. A wheelchair was definitely out of the question. So, Elena fixed the house where he'd have no problem maneuvering where ever he need to go. She hadn't been home in two weeks. Dust was everywhere and Elena cringed. Damon didn't seem to notice, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"If you're hungry," she started, watching his every move as he inched towards the living room. "I can make you something." He inspected the house as he went, and Elena was confused until she remembered that, to him, this was a totally new place. They had bought it together, so he didn't know it anymore.

"No thanks," he said, looking at a photo of the two of them like they were foreign. She swallowed, finding a duster from the pantry. God this hurt worse than she thought it would.

"I've known you for how long?"

"F..Five years." Elena cleared her throat. "I met you at Bonnie's Christmas party. She introduced us. I kind of butted in on a conversation you two were having." She bounced on her toes. "But I don't regret it." She saw Damon smirk, and it made her feel a tiny bit better. He bumped a knuckle against one of the pictures.

"I'm not going to lie. I have good taste." She rolled her eyes, but went with it.  
>"Damn right." He liked that. He peeped over his shoulder at her, throwing her that same smirk, just a little more implied. Elena finished the kitchen and moved towards the living room. He followed her, finding the chair that was his, and only his. Somethings were just natural. He tried sitting, and just like in the car, he let out a groan of pain. It shot down his leg, almost like a cramp every time he tried to bend it. Flying to his side, Elena helped to steady him. He was surprised, but he kept forgetting. This woman was his wife. Or something like that.<p>

"That's okay. I'll just go shower anyways. Get the hospital off me." He shrugged Elena off as kindly as he could. She nodded. She'd change the bed meanwhile. It needed it, after the last escapade that had occurred in it. She was sure that this Damon wouldn't appreciate sleeping in it. Oddly. As Damon shuffled into the bathroom, she began to strip the sheets from the mattress. It only occupied her hands. Her head was still spinning with ideas and possibilities and horrible outcomes. She didn't know how she was going to handle this. The doctor had little prospect for his memory returning. He couldn't say what would happen. Damon may never remember. She felt like rubber at that thought. He may never remember her. He might never remember any part of the most important things in her life, those she had with him. Not their engagement, not his war-time. None of it. Every sheet she put back on the bed made another something come into her head, and before she knew it, the bed was made and her eyes were brimming with tears.

"Elena." She jumped, lost in her thoughts. Clearing her throat, she put the last pillow on the bed and peeled back the sheets on his side of the bed. "I'm coming!" she called, but as she turned, Damon was right behind her and she all but ran into him. She covered her face, recovering, and inhaled before she looked back up to him.

"What do you need, ba—Damon?" When he saw her, really saw her, he frowned. He caught one of the tears on her cheek before she knew they were there. He hated seeing them. Especially on her. That obviously meant something.

"Don't cry," he said softly, but Elena shook her head.

"I'm fine," she covered. She offered him a pair of pants from his drawer, as he was still clad in nothing but a towel. "Here. I'm getting my things together, and I'll be out of here in a minute." She began to gather dirty linens, wrapping them into a pile she could carry out the door. Damon watched her, confused more than he was already.

"Where are you going?"

"In the living room," she replied, immediately overflowing an empty hamper with the wad of materials in her arms as she dropped them in the laundry room. "I'll sleep on the couch."

"Why? It's your bed. If anything, I should sleep out there." Elena blinked. He was sick. Or aching. She wouldn't put him out on the couch for anything. He needed his rest, and she didn't want to disturb it. And despite loving him with everything she had, a slight discomfort came over her at the idea of sleeping in the same bed as him.  
>"No, it's too hard, and you're sore," she frowned. "You can barely move. I'll be fine, I promise." She gave him a smile, but he didn't take it too well. "Promise." She said again. She found her night clothes and slid out the door. Damon watched her go. He wasn't happy. The idea of her on the couch outside just irritated him Probably because from what he could tell, that couch was a fluffy nightmare. Elena, though, was stubborn he could tell. So there would be no persuading her back. As he got a little comfortable in this damn big bed, is body began to feel like a blob of exhaustion. His meds, his soreness, his exercise with the PT nurse from hell all had him drained. Not to mention the damn thinking he was doing, trying to recall anything that might be lurking in his blacked-out brain. The more he did think about it, the more he realized how little he did know. He didn't know Elena, obviously. He knew Bonnie, from ages ago. High school. What was this year? 2014? Christ. What was the last thing he remembered? He dwelled on it, half awake and part of his mind on another tangent not even related to what was going on. 2009? 10? That was the year he finished college but was trying to find something else. Fuck being in college. Dad and his dreams. He could barely keep himself in order, much less learn shit in the process. He remembered meeting a guy about something. No, not a guy. A woman. The sheriff. Forbes. Did he go into the army? He had an urge to go find Elena and ask, but he was too far gone to care.<p>

Outside, Elena wrapped herself in an afghan and tried to make herself comfortable. She'd never slept on this couch, and for a good reason. It was like a cloud, and she usually ended up sunk into the cushions. She was so tired, though, she barely cared. She could probably sleep on concrete at this point. Anything but another one of those hospital couches. Squeaky vinyl and dirty teal would forever haunt her dreams. Aimlessly she pressed the channel button on the remote control, finding nothing on the tube. A low rumble began somewhere above. The dreaded thunderstorm that had been the town's hot topic for several days now was making its arrival. Elena curled herself into the blanket. She hated storms. Some thunder she didn't mind, but loud claps made her absolutely tremble. She liked to thank her brother for that. Jerk and his antics. Closing her eyes, she opted out of any worrying and was hellbent on a deep sleep. Hopefully she could be out of it enough any noise would bypass her completely.

–

Fuck. What in the name of Satan was happening? Damon sat up, rubbed his face. He was sweating like he was in a sauna. And his head /hurt/. He mumbled something, but there was a ringing in his ears so loud he couldn't hear. He began to pull at them, but there was something in the way. The hell? He quickly tore off the hat –no, helmet– from his head. No wonder he was so hot. No, wait. He was hot because he was in a fucking desert. Damon sifted a pile of dirt through a gloved hand. Ruddy sand was all around him in endless dunes. Heat radiated in waves off of it. It felt like the sun was all but sitting on his shoulders. Armored shoulders, at that. He stood, a hundred or so pounds heavier, and he slowly began to hear. Rounds and rounds of bullets were being shot, but he just stood. Somewhere, he heard his name.

"Salvatore! Salvatore, GET. DOWN!" He turned, squinting against the brightness. Who the hell had said that? Then, it started again.

"Christ, Salvatore, are you an idiot? Get-"

In a second, he felt his body jump into action. He flew behind a dusty jeep emblazoned with "US ARMY" across the sides just as a slew of bullets buried themselves where he'd just been standing. Another body slammed into his, and he looked over to see the face of Carol Lockwood pressed against the vehicle with him.  
>"What the hell was that?"<p>

"I got knocked for a loop. Sorry about that." Damon was confused as hell, but he just watched himself continue to function like it was nothing. He took off the empty magazine on the gun in his hands and reloaded it in such speed it blew his own mind.

"Don't do it again. I don't have time to be trying to drag your ass back to base." Damon smirked.

"Alright, guardian angel. What's about I tear into these bastards and you cover me? I see one that I can take in a heartbeat." Carol nodded, trying to peep around the corner, but just a bit too afraid she might be seen.

"Let's do it. I'll stay here. Shoot any that go at you. Decoy. I was queen of that in high school." She laughed and reloaded her own gun. Damon took several breaths, set his finger on the trigger, and sprung to his feet.

Bullets flew into the ground somewhere close. He felt them eat the sand. He began to fire, and one of the rebels that had cited him as his main target fell into a heap. Rounds kept firing, and he kept looking. He couldn't see where they were hiding from him. "Fuckers," he cursed under his breath. He fired off a round in any direction, just in case a stray bullet decided to hit one of them. The gunfire stopped, miraculously. Damon stood, waiting. It was quiet, and anyone would think it was over. It would be safe to move on. But he wasn't. One could be hiding. Or more could be waiting. It was what he'd been trained to do: accept every possible downfall and act on it. Act as if it were happening, and prepare. He stood for a solid ten minutes before deciding to retreat.

"Lockwood." He spun around, ready to find her and progress. But as he did, a pain like nothing he'd ever experienced tore through his abdomen. He grabbed, hands slipping on bloodied canvas. He searched for Carol, where she was still hidden by the jeep. She readied her gun and stood. She fired of a handful of shots towards the west, where an enemy jeep had appeared. Damon watched as his attacker flew out of the sand and into the open back seat. Another round of shots, and it was Damon's turn to yell at Carol.

"Lockwood, forget it! Let's run!" But it was too late. One of the bullets missed her, but buried itself in the side of their jeep, right where the fuel tankard was. Damon watched as Carol's poised figure was outlined with flames, then eaten up in an orange-black cloud. His feet left the ground. He flew for what seemed like ever before he skidded across the sand.

His ears rung. He sat up and rubbed his face. His head was pounding. He was hot. So hot. But he was in a desert. Damon sifted a pile of dirt through a gloved hand. Ruddy sand was all around him in endless dunes. Heat radiated in waves off of it. It felt like the sun was all but sitting on his shoulders.

Elena tossed. She wasn't lucky enough to fall asleep. Not from the thunder, and especially not from her damn mind. She had been dwelling on what to do for Damon. Where to start in retelling everything about them. There was so much, and some she didn't want to revisit. She needed Bonnie's ever-wonderful advice, but she was at work at- she glanced at the clock- 345 in the morning. Now wasn't the time for her to call her with her freak out moment. Elena flipped on the light on the table and threw off the blanket. Tea was what would calm her. Some of that herb-y stuff Bonnie swore by. She'd made some up for Damon when he couldn't sleep. Elena felt like he wouldn't mind if she dipped into his stash. She found the canister and rounded off a healthy dose to steep and began the water to boil. The only other sound was the ticking clock of Guiseppe's as it neared the hour. Elena even dozed a little as she stood, but was instantly jolted awake from the yell that pierced the silence like cold ice. She hadn't heard those in months, but they were just as horrible now as they were the first time. Possibly worse. Her feet barely touched the wooden floors as she flew down the hall. As she cut on the light, Damon was in a mess of sheets and sweat. His blue eyes were wide, empty, and lost. He was terrified. She ran to him, trying to pull the sheets away.

"I'm hurt." He was clutching at his ribs, tearing at his shirt. Seams popped he was pulling so hard. Elena took his hands to make him stop.

"You're not, Damon. You're okay." She knew this dream. Almost like she dreamt it herself.

"No, I'm shot. Don't you see?" He had a sort of child-like fear in his voice laced with panic, and it made Elena choke.

"Damon, it's me. Elena. You were dreaming. You're at home. With me." She stroked his cheek. It was all she could do. Talk to him, try to bring him out of his absolute terror. It took him ages to really get back. Damon flexed his hands, trying to hold what she assumed to be the phantom of a gun. Instead she squeezed them, hoping it would help.

"Damon," she'd say, and she could see him coming back to reality in slow, dragging moments. Damon finally blinked, recognizing Elena sitting there. At first he was surprised, but then she could see he understood. Out of paranoia, he checked himself and found no gaping holes. He shook, a muddled mess of nightmares and incoherence.

"Jesus," he breathed."What the hell was that?"

"The PTSD," Elena spoke just as quietly, watching him. "From the war."

"The war." Damon swallowed. He was silent for a long time, pondering.

"I was going to tell you. I just...hadn't yet. I'm sorry, Damon." He shook his head, threading his fingers into his hair and pulling on it. It was all he felt he could do. He was in the war?

"I watched Carol Lockwood die just then." Elena's gaze fell to the bed and refused to meet his as she spoke.

"I know. It's the same one. You've had problems with it ever since it happened." Damon looked up to her with a sickened look on his face. That was real? Was he remembering?

"You mean I actually watched Carol Lockwood die?" Elena didn't lift her eyes to him. She didn't speak. She knew he was just as mortified now as he was when it first happened. Because in his mind, it was. But her silence answered his question, and he guiltily buried his head in his hands.

"Christ."

"I'm sorry, Damon. The meds must've stirred them up."

"It's not your fault, Elena. I'll be fine." He looked up to her, rubbing her thigh in some sort of reassuring way. The first of any contact she'd had with him. "Thank you for being here." Being here. She hated being here when he went though these. It tore her up to see the strongest person she knew defenseless to his own mind. But she wouldn't have it any other way. She gave a small smile in return.

"Were you asleep?" He started unwinding himself from the material on the bed.

"Sleep. Right," she coughed, promptly spreading it back across the mattress. He rose a brow at her.

"It's the couch. It sucks. I told you to sleep in here." Elena rolled her eyes.

"You're injured."

"So?" Elena wavered. Damon watched, suspicious and almost knowing. Fuck. Was he that good that even when he didn't know her, he knew her?

"You're not just worried about that, are you?" She looked away, pulling the covers back to where they belonged.

"I'm going to sl-"

"You're a liar." He caught her hand, making her stop. She sighed. He tugged. "Stay with me." She pursed her lips. Physically she was aching to lay down. Mentally, she wanted to leave. But she wanted a sense of normality. Damon was willing, and she was confused as hell. She finally let herself fall onto the mattress, tired in more than one way. Her body melted into a puddle at the feel of her own sleeping space. Damn couch.

"Now. Is that so bad?" Damon prodded as she found a pillow and curled up, silently promising never to betray her bed for another couch again.

"I might not remember you, but that doesn't mean I'll bite. Hard." He flashed her that grin, and she laughed a little.

"I just figured it might be imposing."  
>"Imposing on what?"<p>

"I won't lie. If I were in your shoes, I'd probably try and tell you you couldn't sleep in the bed."

"I'm not so objectioning." He chuckled. "But, you wouldn't win, either." Elena stared at the ceiling, feeling a tiny bit of steady for the first time in weeks. It was more or less just hearing Damon's voice that calmed her. He was here, not 100%, but in the 95% range, and he was cocky as ever. What more could she ask for?

"You know, Elena," he began after a silence, "I have this feeling that I'm insanely lucky that you're here for me." He turned his head to look at her. He expected to see those amazing eyes of hers, but instead they were shut, and she was long gone off in a restful sleep that she well deserved. The corners of his lips twisted slightly in a smug grin as he pulled the blankets across her.

"I win," he chuckled, and shut out the light for the second time that night.


	4. The Woman in the Den

A tantalizing mixture of smells drifted into the bedroom. Coffee, eggs, and bacon. It was amazing. The bed was empty, and Elena drug herself from its warm confines and drifted down the hall. The sun was shining through the sunroom where Damon had set the glass table for the two of them. Her favorite mug rolled with steam in the sunshine. He loomed over the stove, prodding a strip of bacon with a spatula. A towel was slung over his shoulder, and he leaned against the cane he hated but was reliant on so much. His hair was still a mess and he was dressed, as if he were going somewhere. At seven in the morning. Like for a run. As always.

"Morning, pretty lady." He plopped the bacon over onto a plate. Elena had to suppress her urge to wrap herself around him and give him a kiss to go with that greeting."Hungry?"

"Most definitely," she smiled back, picking up the plate only to have it taken away from her as soon as it reached her grip.

"Nuh-uh. Go sit. I've got this." Elena rose her hands in mock-surrender and did as he said, sitting down at the table where her mug sat. He hobbled behind her shortly after, plate in one hand and cane in another, to finish the spread. Fruit, bacon, eggs, grits, toast, and biscuits were neatly put on plates. More then she'd ever be able to eat. But that didn't keep her from wanting every bit of it. Her stomach did a growl in agreement.

"Damon, how long have you been awake?" she asked as she started filling her plate with a tiny bit of everything in her reach. Damon watched her, pleased.

"Oh..five. Thirty. Ish." He shrugged, helping himself to a biscuit and jelly. "I didn't really get much sleep after that...whatever it was..last night. So about sunrise, I got up."

"You should have woken me. I would have helped." She spoke behind her hand and around a mouth of toast. God this was good. Or she was just hungry.

"Never. You deserved your sleep. I wasn't going to wake you for raw eggs and sausage." His lip curled into a grin at her and she speared a chunk of her food, rolling her eyes.

"Mhm. Well, I do say you did a good job. It's delicious, babe." She picked up her coffee, eying it cautiously. Damon watched from the corner of his eye but continued to eat as if he weren't. She took a tentative sip, and was thrilled. Sweetened, just as she liked. She grinned at the man beside her.

"You did this?" she almost demanded out of excitement. Damon didn't act phased. He was solid.

"Is it right?" Blue eyes went from her to the cup. His escapade with the mug this morning had sent him on a tangent. He'd never seen it, but when he did he knew exactly what was supposed to go into it: two sugars and a drop of the vanilla in the spice cabinet. He'd never heard of that once. But, if his mind was going to offer something like that, he wasn't about to write it off as a random thought. Nothing that intricate was random.

"Yes! Damon, you remembered!" Elena was beaming, and Damon started to himself.

"Hot damn! I knew it was something!" Elena leaned over, happily hugging his neck and planting a kiss on his cheek.

"What made you decide on that?" she mumbled as she pulled away. "That wasn't some experiment was it?"

"Well, in a way. I kind of heard it in my head and experimented with whether or not that was your coffee order." He grinned. "Guess not everything is gone."

"I knew it wasn't. This is so great, Damon." She started back into her food, but she was so aflutter she wasn't even hungry now.

"And about that," he started, biting at the bit with this. "I had an idea last night, while I was awake so long." She waited. "Why don't we go someplace?"

"Where would you like to go?"

"Where we met." Elena shot him a questioning glance.

"Bonnie's living room?"

"Okay. Maybe it was a bad idea." He laughed a little, scratching the back of his head. "I thought about trying to jog my memories. It happened with the cup. Maybe it'll happen with something else I know. Where did I propose to you?"

Elena smiled, a mouthful of toast, and pointed to the place by the stove with her fork. "Right there. With more nerves than any I'd ever seen."

"There? God, I suck at romance," he chuckled some, a hint of disappointment definitely in his voice. His girl quickly shook her head, forcing her food to go down so she could chime in.

"You /do not./ You can be romantic when you want. You just have to put a lot of thought into it before you do." Damon rose a brow. He sucked at romance. Like he said. He felt awkward with it, mainly because he found most of it to be cheesy. Did this chick find cheesy cute?

"When was I romantic?" Elena primly stacked her plate on top of his empty one, laying the two sets of silverware in the center of them. She had a look of thought, like she had to hunt and peck for something. He must have about one romantic event in this relationship. He didn't expect any less.

"After we started really going out, you blindfolded me for an entire hour. I was impatient and really was about to get testy with you it was so long. You kept telling me to just wait. It would be worth it. You drove me out of town and to an overlook right at sundown. I don't know how you got a table and chairs into the state park with a full dinner, but you did. It was amazing." Elena was glowing with the memory. He did that? This woman had had him around her little finger.

"And I proposed to you in the fucking kitchen. Christ." Damon laughed, rubbing his face.

"Rumor has it that evidently on the way back from your last tour, you had decided to. That's what you told me at least. And then you babbled about 'now or never' and a few other things. You were scared to death." She laughed a little, like she enjoyed the thought, and pushed a piece of egg around on her plate. She was lost in another time and another place.

"What do we do in our free time?" Damon twisted his coffee mug. Elena broke immediately out of her daydream to shoot him this priceless "did you really" look. He couldn't help but smirk. Smugly, at that.  
>"Okay. Rephrase. What do we do that's acceptable in public during our free time?" Elena thought on it, trying to think of what all they had done the last time he was home from duty.<p>

"When you didn't have me against a wall, we love to go out and hike in the Old Wood. There's this trail that goes along the outskirts of town. At the end is an abandoned mansion. It's beautiful. I never get tired of seeing it."

"You mean the old Veritas place? I've been there a hundred times." Elena nodded.

"That's the one. You showed it to me. I've lived here my whole life and I never knew it existed until you drug me out there one day."

"I don't see you as the hiker-type," he teased, making a frizzy curl that had fallen from the clip at the back of her hair bounce flaccidly. She narrowed her eyes at him until he was unsure that they were even open anymore.

"I may be pretty but I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty," she scoffed. Damon threw his hands up in surrender.

"I just said you looked like. I don't know that you aren't. You might even out-hike me."

"You're on a cane. I'm sure that a snail could out-hike you right now." She grinned teasingly at him, and he nodded to himself with a chuckle. This woman was sharp.

"Okay, okay. Let's not make fun of the cripple. Give me a week. I'll be kicking your ass on that trail." Elena sat up in her chair, like the thought of a challenge had caught her attention.

"We'll see."

"You bet." He smirked.

"Only if the doctor says you can," was her next sentence. He rolled his eyes. He hated the doctor. He was only in the hospital because he was in a coma. If he'd been conscious, he'd been gone way earlier than he was.

"Doctor, schmockter," he muttered.

"No, Doctor Eaves. He's really good, Damon."

"Don't kill my vibes, gorgeous."

"You're going back."  
>"For what? I'm walking. I'm alive."<p>

"And you also have three broken ribs and a lung that collapsed at one point. Oh, and that memory thing. Let's not leave that out." She sounded a little upset, but he didn't acknowledge it. He hated the doctor. He hated hospitals. He hated anything related to the possibility of being poked or jabbed with needles. But if he kept pressing he would piss her off. He'd just really started getting to get her. Or re-get her. Some parts of her he swore he knew, but others were like meeting her for the first time. Like he knew her in another lifetime. So he let out a breath and just nodded.

"Sure, Elena." He tapped a finger on his elbow, wondering about how much treading he could do in such testy waters. "We'll see." It was as close as he could get without starting up an argument. She huffed, knowing what he was doing, and started picking up plates in sets of twos until her arms were full.

"Are we going somewhere or something? I've got to get ready if so."

"Sure. The park? It's nice out. We should go." Elena gulped, remembering two weeks ago when she was last there.

"Back in a few." And she disappeared into the bedroom.

Damon could practically see her tense at the word he uttered. What was so bad? It was just a park. He got to his feet, feeling the soreness radiate not quite as far as it had the day before. It was just as painful, though. A few more days and he'd be able to chunk this old man stick. Thank god. He made his way into the bedroom, finding his closet. Elena was in the bathroom, steam beginning to fog the mirror over the sink. He pulled something from a hanger and threw it on. He hoped it was decent. He was too busy letting himself watch through the crack of the door as Elena readied for her shower. She was still swathed in a robe, flipping though a basket of things and picking out bottles to take with her into the shower. She was systematic, robotic in her movements but graceful. It was natural to her. She fluttered around the bathroom until she had everything she needed. Damon had intended to leave her be, but he couldn't tear himself away. Elena began to untie the sash about her waist. She slid it off a pair of exquisitely carved shoulders, letting it pool into a heap of turquoise at her feet. He already knew she was beautiful, but he couldn't help but appreciate the form in front of him. He admired the slight dimples on her back, the amazing curve of her hips. He crawled upwards as she slowly turned. When he finally met her gaze, he felt slightly obligated to apologize, but the knowing little grin on her face told him otherwise. She was okay with it. Probably used to it, knowing him.

Elena wasn't surprised to see Damon eyeing her. His /second/ favorite pastime. But he was still doing it, despite the fact he was relearning their relationship, and it made her feel wonderful. It made her hopeful. Damon's lips quirked a little, obviously happy about her discovery. His eyes continued to rake over her, and she laughed at his drooling.  
>"Damon. Go get dressed." She unpinned her hair and rolled back the glass door of the shower. He didn't move, adoring the sight of the brown locks falling across her skin like waves.<p>

"Damon."

"I'm dressed!" She rose a brow. He had successfully put on a shirt. That was it. He was still wearing what he worked out in.

"You are /not/ going out in public in a pair of those pants. Not with me anyways."

"I didn't say I was dressed /decently./" He remarked, wagging his brows at her. Was he kidding? She rolled her eyes and moved under the stream of hot water, cheekily cutting off his momentary eye candy.

Damon studied the sets of keys hanging along the hooks near the door. There were two, one just a fob, and another crowded with five different keychains and keys. Had to be hers. He picked them from the hook, hearing Elena flip off the light switches through the house.

"You're not driving," she sang, grabbing the pair he'd assumed his. He felt slightly disappointed at himself. What the hell did he have so many keys for?

"And why not?"

"Drugs."

"You say that like I'm a junkie." He chuckled, taking them from her hand. "Besides, I haven't even taken one today. I don't need it." Elena huffed.  
>"Damon you're-"<p>

"Alive and perfectly well," he took her keys from her. It was so lithe, Elena didn't have a chance to fight it. She sighed, throwing her hands up. Was there really any use in trying? "Now get in, hot stuff."

"Hot stuff? I haven't heard that one in a while." She got into the passenger's seat without reproval. Laying his wallet on his lap, she pointed a finger at him.  
>"Wreck my car, I'll wreck you." Damon sat a moment, like he was considering her words.<br>"Is that a promise or...?" Elena bit her lips, trying not to laugh.

"Oh my God. Just shut up and drive!" He began to chuckle while Elena's neck flushed red with bother. Nothing had affected that part of his mind. She shook her head to herself, looking out the window as they headed towards downtown.

"So, Elena. Can you tell me about the years of my life that I've misplaced?" Misplaced. That was a good word for it. She drummed fingers against her knees, trying to decide where to start, and how far to go. Some of it would just have to wait until later. On her part.

"Well," she began, "I met you Christmas 2007, like I told you. You'd just enlisted in the military. You were leaving for basic training a few days after. I thought I'd probably never see you again. They shipped you to Fort Benning and you stayed gone for nearly four months. We wrote back and forth. When you came home, you were here for three months, then shipped out. You came home again in February. Left again in August. That time you were gone for a year. August 1 to August 1. That was the worst time. Carol died. You were shot. I was scared to death you weren't going to get back home. But you did. This last time you left, they kept extending your deployment. I thought I was going to have to have a Come to Jesus meeting with the damn army. Your brother and I even went to the airport twice to pick you up. But finally you were there the second time." She smiled, but it was tired.

"How are you even still here?" Damon asked. He'd long since parked the car and killed it, listening to her recount of his life. "I wasn't even here for half our relationship."

"Because I loved you. I didn't need to go anywhere else." She said it like it was obvious. A no-brainer. "I still do." Damon gave his head a shake.

"What is it?"

"This place looks different," he said, skipping her question. She didn't seem to notice. She looked out the window, seemingly reluctant, but got out anyways. She stood off to the side, waiting for Damon to join her.

"Do I still run here?" The center of the square had been decorated with a fountain since he last recalled. He meandered towards it. A brass placard was mounted on the edge of the cement wall that read, "In loving memory of Carol Lockwood." Damon itched, seeing his nightmare all over again.

"Every morning." Elena folded her arms, following close to Damon as he investigated. The park was beautiful since the mayor had added the fountain. Caroline's landscaping plans had done nothing but good for it, too, with the bright summer wildflowers. They drew in butterflies like flies to honey. It beautified the city even more. Damon nudged Elena, pointing towards the ground near her feet.

"I used to be the jerk that did that." He smirked, kind of proud of himself. Mostly ashamed, but proud.

"Sheriff Forbes had me on his radar. He never could catch me driving through. Of course, now I can't. It's all fancy." With a chuckle, he kicked a little at the deep rut in the grass. Elena couldn't see anything but flashing blue lights and gurneys. Of course he didn't remember. She'd never forget.

"Damon, that wasn't from kids. That was from Mrs. Flowers."  
>"She's still alive?" Right. The woman was nearing a hundred, but it didn't keep her from trying to do what everyone else did. She was a hellaciously stubborn old woman. Notoriously so.<p>

"Yes, Damon. She's the one that ran you over. She can't see anymore. She doesn't even remember driving." Damon stared at Elena, then looked at the ruts in the ground. Thick brows knitted together. He was trying. He looked almost sad, but Elena couldn't be for total sure. Gosh how she hated to see him struggle.

"It's okay, Damon," she said quietly. She slid her hand into his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I don't even know what I don't remember, Elena," he sighed. The frustration was clear in his voice, but she could tell he was trying to keep his calm. "I can't remember weird parts. I know stuff happened, but I don't remember who was there. And sometimes I remember people and them doing something, but I have no fucking clue what's going on."

"I'm sorry, Damon. I wish I could help, but I don't know how."

"It's not your fault, Elena. I'm just confused as hell." He shook his head. "It's even worse because I can't remember /you/. I don't remember meeting you, your birthday, your fucking favorite color. I don't know any of it. I know I'm supposed to love you more than anything in the world, but I've just met you."

"I know, Damon. I..understand. It's okay," she reassured him, that last sentence stinging a little. /I'm supposed to.../ "You'll come around." Happy tones. Optimism. She should work on that anyways. "You've only been awake for a few days. Give it some time." Damon scratched at his temple almost angrily before finally agreeing with her.

"You're right. I'm just panicking, I guess."

"Don't panic. I think that's one of the things they teach you in military school." She gave him a smile despite how she felt. Uncomfortable and quite ready to leave this situation, she gently nudged him and edged him forward. She didn't like it here. She only saw the scene from two weeks ago instead of the gorgeous place where she spent so much time in the past. Before she could remember having her first beers at the bonfire, her first kiss and first date with Tyler Lockwood, and even the prom she went stag with with Bonnie and Caroline. Now she just saw icy stone pavement and skid marks. It was just too soon.

"Bonnie wrote me this morning," she started. "She's making this huge dinner. She wants everyone to come."

"Tonight?"

"If you want to, that is. And you are, considering she's making it in your honor." Damon rose a brow as they reached the car again, making the loop around the park complete.

"Mine? What did I do?" Elena folded her arms and cocked her head at him in a "don't ask dumb questions" way that he thought was kind of cute.

"You've been through a lot. And all of us happen to love you. Even my socially-hermited brother who doesn't like anyone. That should be enough reason as it is. Oh, and Stefan's going to be there. He's coming back in from his business trip." Damon's face screwed up in confusion.  
>"Business trip?"<p>

"Oh. Stefan started making his own whiskey, and he's trying to find someone to help him market it. It's better than any of that stuff you guys ever drank."

"His own /whiskey/? He's insane. That takes years."

"But he did it. He started working on it evidently in about 2000. Bon has some. I'm sure she'll let you try it." This time Elena got the keys and put herself into the driver's seat before Damon could protest. He grumbled, but he complied.

"How much has changed, 'Lena?" he asked, throwing his cumbersome cane as far into the back of the car as he could.

"Too much, Damon," she said quietly. "Too, too much."

Later that night, Elena and Damon had arrived at Bonnie's. Though Bon told her not to, Elena brought a dish anyways as a thank you for her help during Damon's coma. It was Bonnie's favorite dessert, Miranda's Grape and Walnut Salad. She didn't retort when she saw the dish in Elena's arms, and promptly hid it in the fridge. The house was full. Grams sat in the corner, holding Marie as she rocked in the fluffy recliner and chatted. Jeremy and Stefan were talking over a game playing on the television in the den. Damon started making his way there, anxious to find a seat and take some of the pain off his bum leg. As soon as he came into view, Mary jumped to her feet and flung her arms around her son.

"Damon! Oh my gosh, Damon, I'm so happy to see you!"

"Mom?"

"Yes, honey, it's me! Your brother picked me up in New York." Mary started investigating her child, noting the cane he leaned against. "How are you, dear?"

"I'm...okay. Kind of foggy still, so don't get testy with me, huh?" He smirked, kissing her cheek like he knew she was waiting for so much.

"I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner. You know they don't just let us old people go all the time like we'd like." Damon narrowed his eyes at his mother, but she was already whisking towards the kitchen in that way she always did. She was so lofty. That would be the meds, Elena had told him. Giuseppe had died during Damon's second return home of an aneurysm. After Giuseppe's death, Mary started to decline. Her friends slowly began to die as well, and eventually Mary became a hermit inside the place where she lived with her husband. Her mind began to deteriorate as well. That idea killed Damon, but Elena quickly reminded him that Stefan and he had opted to put her in an assisted living center. She'd blossomed since then, but her mind wasn't quite the same. She was exhibiting some signs of dementia, according to the last call they had received. But his mother was happy in the Upstate New York place, so Damon and Stefan left her be.

"Brother!" Stefan was next, more than thrilled to see Damon. He quickly pulled him into an embrace, one so tight he almost questioned if this was Stefan Salvatore.

"I'm so-"

"Glad to see me? Are you sure?" Damon grinned.

"I really am. We were worried for a while." Damon twisted the cane in his grip.

"Sorry I gave you such a scare."

"As long as you're still alive, that's the important part," Stefan stepped to the side, offering the seat where he was a few moments ago to him. Usually Damon would wave it away, but the searing pain in his knee was past hurting. He gladly plopped down, letting out a sigh of relief as it immediately began to ease.

"How are you?" Damon cringed. Depends.

"I'm...okay. Sore. But I lost some of my memories." Stefan frowned.

"How much have you lost?"

"That depends on what you mean by lost. I remember pieces, but it's scattered. I don't remember Elena, the army." Damon itched the back of his neck. "Basically the entire past six or seven years."

"Damn, Damon. You know I'll help as much as I can. Just ask."

"Thank you, Stef. I appreciate that."

"I'm sorry I didn't see you sooner, Damon," Stefan began a little remorsefully. "I couldn't get out of my meeting."

"Yeah," Damon started a grin. "Elena told me you're trying to be a businessman now. I'm impressed little bro!" Stefan chuckled.

"Trying is the right word. I haven't had much luck. I think these last people might be my break, though." Stefan picked up an untouched glass from the coffeetable and offered it to him with a hopeful look.

"Try it. Tell me if you think it's worth anything." Damon took the glass and inhaled, a smoky woodish odor filling his nose. He liked that. He liked that a lot. Dosing himself a long sip, the sweet taste that came from it was easily one of the best he'd tasted in a very long while. It wasn't hard. It was smooth, inviting.

"I wouldn't turn down a second helping of that. Damon, brother. You're good." Stefan all but beamed with pride, though he'd heard Damon tell him that before. Damon was such a picky ass about his liquor. Validation from him was like a chef's validation from Gordon Ramsey.

"I think I might have got something going. I'm excited about this." Damon chuckled, setting down his empty glass back in its place on the table. About that time, Elena flew into the room.

"Grams, you know I love you, right?" She slid onto the ottoman in front of Sheila, who looked down at her as if she wanted her to beg.

"I do. And I love you as well, Elena," she said solemnly, not about to let her little sucking up spell get to her. Elena waited, suddenly a little frustrated when she realized her stubbornness.

"Grams, I want the baby. I haven't seen her in almost a week! Pretty please?" Sheila sighed, looking down at the bundle in her arms. Though it was reluctant she carefully handed her over. She'd held Marie all day. She might could use a break.

Across the room, Damon watched Elena's face light up as the tiny bundle was left in her arms. It was like seeing a whole other person emerge. To say it was amazing to him would be an understatement. Stefan chuckled.

"She loves that baby almost more than her parents do," he said as he finished his own glass off. "You know Bonnie made you two the godparents." That got Damon's attention. He turned, looking at him as if he had suddenly spouted off another language.

"Are you kidding? A kid?" Stefan nodded.

"Yeah I'm sure. She didn't name her Marie because she thought it was cute. Elena's middle name. Remember?"

"A puppy maybe, but a kid? Kids run from me," he snorted, looking from Elena to his brother again. Stefan rubbed his chin, suddenly feeling at a loss for words. He gathered the two glasses.

"I'm going to go see if there's anything to be done. I didn't bring anything. Least I can do," he said with his head down, then exited the room without another word. Damon continued to watch Elena. She spotted him and rose, bringing Marie with her and even holding out the tiny human for him to take.

"Wait wait, Elena. I can't hold...her. A baby. I can't."

"Yes, you can! You've held one before."

"Yeah, but I lost my memory. I don't remember how. Remember?" He was watching the bundle in Elena's arms like a hawk. A scared hawk. She rolled her eyes, pulling Damon's arms out enough to just cradle Marie. She set her down there gently as if she would break. Marie was weightless it seemed. She peered up at Damon with round dark eyes. Her skin was a milky shade of brown, one that matched her mother's. Marie studied Damon for a long moment, watching both him and the woman beside him.

"She's trying to remember you," Elena whispered in his ear as she looked on.

"Maybe she'll update me, then," he chuckled. Damon started to smile at her, and immediately she returned it. Elena laughed.

"See? You're not exactly inexperienced at this." She rolled her lips, biting back on saying anything else. Just then, Bonnie popped her head into the room.

"I have a table very full of food and the guest of honor is not even at it," she chided playfully. "Get in here, you two."

"Two? Not counting little bit here?" Damon picked up Marie's hand, waving it at Bonnie. She rolled her eyes. No wonder she was such good friends with Elena.

"Try again when you've got teeth, babes." She outstretched her arms, greeting Marie's smile with one of her own as she took her from Damon's arms. "I'll let her down and be in in a second." Elena almost pouted as Bonnie took Marie away, but not without kissing the chubby cheeks of hers first.

"Sit down, Damon! We can't eat if you're not here," Stefan jabbed playfully as he spread a cloth napkin across his lap.

"Come now, Stefan. Leave your brother alone," Mrs. Salvatore scolded, sitting so properly at her seat. Damon snickered like a victorious little boy at Stefan.  
>"Yeah, Stef. Leave me alone. You heard her."<p>

"And you," she pointed, "Aren't special. /Behave./" Jeremy snorted from the other end of the table as Stefan chuckled. Bonnie came back just in time to see all the commotion and took the seat beside her man. She gave a shake of her head at Elena, who just rolled her eyes with a laugh. Jeremy sat at the head of the table, and as he rose, Elena was instantly reminded of their long-gone father, how regal he was in that same spot for so many family dinners. It didn't help that, as he aged, he looked more and more like Greyson Gilbert.

"I wanted to say something," he started, looking in the direction of his sister and Damon. "I think I can speak for everyone when I say that I'm glad to see you on our soil again, Damon. This dinner was supposed to be...what? Three months ago, Bon? It's long overdue. You're starting to rival Iron Man over there. Three tours, now this accident." Everyone laughed at that, even Damon. "You've been through it, Damon, but I'm glad that you're still at this table. We all love you, bro." Damon's lips curled into a bashful smile.

"Well, whatever support I needed came from you guys, and especially this girl beside me," he said, running a hand along Elena's thigh. "I appreciate all of it. I love you guys, too."

"Now, let's eat. I've been smelling this all damn day," Jeremy laughed. They all filled their plates with green beans, squash, casseroles, and a ham Bonnie had cooked since the night before. She had been in the kitchen since nine that morning, every dish on the table from Grams' cookbook. Plates emptied and refilled. The desserts that sat on the bar remained untouched for a long while until someone broke out a stack of playing cards. Then, the boys started using Bonnie's cookies as playing chips, the white-chocolate snickerdoodles the most valuable on the table. Grams and Mary washed dishes, refusing to let the cook do such a thing after all the work she had put in. But, because Bonnie was as stubborn as she was a woman, she helped them anyways. That left Elena and Marie, who easily entertained one another. Marie was laid across the oversized leather ottoman, Elena playing with her feet and tickling them to make her squeal with laughter. Damon loved it. He watched from afar between pushing out a cookie or two to the pot and trying to keep tabs on his opponents.

"Now that's something I've seen before," he mumbled as Elena looked over to see him gazing at her. A smile on her face was pure happiness, and it was beautiful. Across the table, Stefan was trying to get his brother's attention.

"Damon!" He immediately turned back to the group, looking to the cards in his hands.

"Sorry. What?"

"Your turn, dreamboat," Jeremy smirked, biting into one of the cookies from his stack.

"Hey! Don't eat the money!" Stefan said. Damon threw out two more snickerdoodles.  
>"I need to ask you guys something," he said, laying his cards down and ignoring the two's bickering. "I know it sounds really shitty, but I need you to tell me about Elena." Stefan and Jeremy exchanged glances, but didn't say a word.<p>

"Where do you want to start, D?" Jeremy asked as he finished off a second cookie.

"Birthday, where she went to school. Elementary stuff."

"June 22. She went to Mystic Falls-"

"She couldn't have. I would've remembered."

"She did," Stefan nodded. "But if you'll recall your high school years, Damon, you were the biggest ass on campus." Jeremy nodded in agreement.

"Only the cheerleaders went after you. And that was because they were all sluts." Stefan chuckled, knowing that truth was strong.

"Okay, not here for a high school reunion," Damon grumbled.

"I'm not trying to be rude, but shouldn't you be asking her all this?" Stefan asked. Damon rubbed his face, honestly without an answer for that question. But perhaps he was right.

"I'll tell you one thing," Jeremy started, sounding slightly on the defense. This should be good. "I don't totally hold it against you, but I do sort of hate you for it. When you got deployed the first time to Iraq, you were practically set out on the frontlines. You got shot, but you never came home. She told me when you got home and you two were together, she found it. And from then on, between the secrets you kept from her, the way I saw you treat her, and the government keeping you so long...you changed, and she changed with you. She's not the same Elena anymore. I don't love her any less, but she's just not the same." Damon narrowed his eyes at Jeremy. How he treated her? What did he mean?

"Elaborate, Gilbert," he demanded. Stefan sat back in his chair, like this was a story to be told. Jeremy shifted in his own, letting out an exhale.

"Okay. When she met you, you were still dick Damon from Mystic Falls High. I don't know what in the hell possessed you to join the army. No one did. But right before you left, you met Elena. You two were inseparable the two weeks before you left. You were gone. Came back, everything was fine. When you came back from Iraq, you were totally different. It scared Elena. I think it scared you worse. She came to me, talking about how you said that you didn't know if you would make it back next time- crazy shit. I don't think you were as ready for the army as you though, D. I know Elena wasn't. Every time you leave, she stays over here more than anything. You scare the hell out of her, Damon. I know she doesn't know it, that it doesn't seem like it, but you do. She's constantly scared that you're not going to come back or you're going to have one of those night terrors she can't pull you out of. She's scared of losing anyone else. Can't say I blame her. Besides me, you're all Elena has left."

Damon quietly observed the woman he was slowly falling for, that he was constantly trying to decipher what he did and didn't know of her. She smiled that smile again. The one he was so familiar with, yet he knew nothing of. She was beautiful. More than any he'd laid eyes on in his life. She was magnificent, full of love, and such care. Jeremy's words had hit him like a truck. If this was her now, what was she like before? Had he done some irrevocable damage because of his selfish ways? Making her expect his death was nothing short of it. He wanted to kick himself. Who did that? Who forced a unwholesome state of mind like that onto a person. /He did./ So could he fix it? He had a taste of what he had endured for the three years he was away from American land. And if that was really what he went through, he wouldn't want to bless that woman with that sort of constant dread. He was deployed for how long? Three of the six years he had been with Elena? Had she stayed in that landlocked mood for all that time? He wished he could remember /so much,/ because he would be sure he would never treat her like that again.


	5. Jerks and Revelations

**AN: _Hey, guys! Thank you for the reviews and for reading! I'm so glad y'all like this so far! I've got so much in my mind for this story and others, I don't know what to do with myself! I don't want to disappoint, but this chapter is just a little short compared to my others. I was going to go on with it, but it just had to stand alone. I've got my next one on the burner, so don't get sad! :D So without further ado, ENJOY! _**

Elena's desk was a phenomenal mess. Things were in places she didn't remember and her emails were overflowing. Sheriff Forbes had inserted Caroline to pick up the slack to keep Elena's workload from overpowering her when she got back. Much to the Sheriff's dismay, it seemed like it might have doubled it instead. Caroline had neatly organized whatever flew onto her desk, but she had also put in some things that were not right and Elena groaned, knowing the work it would be to correct it. Despite that, she thanked Liz anyways, knowing she was only trying to be helpful.

"Elena!" A peppy, happy voice said from behind her, nearly scaring her out of her chair. Elena spun, seeing her temporary in the door with a vase of beautifully ragged sunflowers.

"Care!" Elena smiled, actually excited to see her other best friend for the first time in weeks. Caroline set the bouquet next to Elena's computer and wrapped her friend up in a hug, squeezing her tight.

"I thought these might brighten your day. I'm so glad to see you!"

"Awe. Thank you! And for the flowers for Damon too, Care. That was sweet of you. Where have you been?" Caroline nodded, and then pointed at the desk behind Elena.

"I know Mom was just being a mom and trying to help me out, but I don't think I'll ever forgive her for sticking me in your spot. It is so /hard/. I was up here 'til ten o'clock some nights!" Elena laughed a little, unintentionally.

"It takes a lot of practice. Patience."

"/That's/ my problem, then. How's things?"

"Okay. I'm sure everyone knows by now, but he's lost some of his memory. But it's looking up." Caroline's face fell a little.

"Really bad?" Elena shook her head, rubbing a palm against the heel of her elbow.

"He's remembered a little thing or two," she said, suddenly feeling a little /too/ optimistic. He'd remembered, what? Two things? But he'd been home for days. That was something, wasn't it? Caroline flashed a glance at her watch and tapped it.

"I've got to run. Mama's got a hot date," she grinned. Elena returned it, nudging her arm against Care's.

"Ooh. Who's the lucky guy?" Caroline kind of rolled her eyes, looking at the ceiling with some kind of indescribable look on her face.

"/Well,/ if I tell you, you can't take it bad or judge me or any of that." Elena folded her arms, waiting on Caroline's reply. But she just bounced on her toes, curls springing with her as she mustered up this confession to her friend.

"He's really not a bad guy, once you get to know him. He's really sweet, too-"

"Caroline, who is it?"

"Tyler." Elena blinked.

"Lockwood?" Caroline groaned and covered her face.

"You're judging me!"

"No no no, Care. I'm just...surprised. You thought he was a total jerk in high school."

"Yeah, well you thought the same thing about Damon and look at you now," she boldly pointed out. "Except Damon still has, like, 30% jerk left in him." Elena sighed, not wanting to go into this with her. Or anyone else for that matter.

"Caroline, don't."

"No, Elena. He's still a jerk. He hasn't changed. I know you two have been through alot, but he's still doing it." This was her rant, everytime they ran anywhere near this subject. Caroline thought Damon didn't treat her like she thought he should. Reality was, he did. She just never saw it.

"This accident has kind of changed him."

"That's what you said about the war, too," she said, somewhere between a retreat and a confrontational snip.

"No, Care. Seriously. He's...well, he's not quite as...shut off as he was. He doesn't have a reason to anymore. He doesn't remember." Caroline suddenly felt a little remorse for jumping her friend, knowing she was having a hard enough time as it was. She pursed her lips.  
>"I'm sorry. I just- I've never liked him-"<p>

"I know, Care. And you know I love you for looking out for me. But I /promise/ he's okay. I would've left by now if I thought otherwise." Caroline smiled, and Elena hugged her friend and thanked her for the flowers again.

"Tell me about this date. Text me, call me, something," she grinned.

"Oh yeah. I will," she nodded in response, hefting her purse up onto her shoulder and snuck around her friend, now /really/ running late. "Love you!" With a click-clacking of heels, Caroline almost ran out of the station.

Elena looked back at her workstation and sat. Her computer screen read out the hour as 12:15 pm, which meant she only had a few more hours until she could go. Though she really needed to stay and sort this all out, she wanted to be home with Damon. After the dinner at Bonnie's, he'd kind of withdrawn from her. He looked at her with what she almost thought was contrite, and it irritated the hell out of her. He was so happy a few days ago. What had happened? She racked her brain, but she came up to a loss. She wanted to help him somehow but when wouldn't talk to her she was left to do nothing. Waving her away seemed to be his best skill at the moment. Already she had decided that irritating him until he spoke would be her strategy. It always worked before. She found her phone and typed out a message to him.

/Everything okay?/

/Peachy keen, gorgeous,/ he replied almost immediately. Pet names. She missed those, and the past few days he'd starting using them again. It made her smile for once.

/Making dinner/" he sent a few moments later.

/What's on the menu, chef?/

/Surprise. ;)/ Of course it is. And he used the winky face. He was peppy compared to his past days. She was at her wits end with his mopey-ness. Talking to him had been like pulling teeth. He was almost pensive. God knew why. But now this? He was becoming a roller-coaster.

Hours passed, slowly but surely. Elena had became unable to procrastinate any longer after her small chat with Damon and did her dreaded work. Although some of what Caroline had done would have to be restarted, she was majoritively done. Proudly so. Elena waved at the chief with keys in hand and bolted out the door.

She entered the house, a familiar aroma greeting her. While the kitchen was bright, it was the only thing in the house lit. Damon was nowhere in sight and the place was so silent, a pin could be heard dropping to the floor. The dining room was lit by nothing but a group of candles in the center of the table. Flames flickered off the glasses and Elena awed over it. She heard footsteps come down the hall, but she didn't look to greet Damon. She was too excited.

"What is this?" Elena swept another gaze over the dimmed room, the clothed table, the set dishes. Was that wine? She grinned ear to ear, Damon ushering her to her seat.

"You're home early. It's not quite done," he said as he pushed the chair beneath her. "But I think you'll like it. I know I do."

"What is it?"

"Only the best dinner ever." A knowing grin planted itself on Elena's lips, but she waited to see if her assumptions were right. The oven popped closed and a few moments later, her answer sat in front of her.

"Chicken enchiladas." She watched as Damon served her a helping of the steaming dish.

"They're my absolute favorite," he grinned, now serving himself. He was in a whole new demeanor, completely different from the funk he'd been stuck in for days. She didn't question it right now. She enjoyed it too much. Elena nodded, having made the dish before her so many times for him she knew the recipe by heart.

"I make them every time you come home. And, I made them the night you proposed." Damon chuckled.

"My favorite food and girl in the same night." They both laughed. She felt a little thrill at that, but she didn't push it.

"What's with all the dressed up? Tablecloths, candles, wine." She raked the tines of her fork over her food but watched the man across from her. He refilled her wine and rolled his shoulders.

"You've had a rough few weeks. You deserve it. Especially for putting up with me." She chuckled a little.

"We both have. /You/ were the one in the hospital bed. Remember?"

"Mm. I got some pretty great sleep."

"Stop," she laughed. "You aren't even /remotely/ funny." He wagged his brows at her.

"You seem to get a kick out of it," he pointed out with a simper. Elena just shut her mouth, not going to egg it on anymore. Damon, on the other hand, was enjoying how much effort she was putting forth just to prove him wrong. And that made her that type of angry/not angry that she only could get at him. She huffed a little to herself, cutting another piece of her meal off with the side of her fork. As she took a bite, she could see the smirk on his face out the corner of her eye.

"Can I say something, Elena?" Her heart did a tiny flip. His voice had changed. She abandoned her meal to look to him.

"The other night at Bonnie's, I talked to Jeremy and Stefan. I asked them about you."

"What do you mean you asked them about me?"

"Let me finish, baby," he said. Christ. /Baby./ His serious word. She shook internally, happy to hear something like that, but remained silent so he would go on. "I want to apologize for being so...shut off from you for the past couple days. I don't mean to, but I had my reasons." He dropped his napkin into his plate, pushing it away and inching a little towards her. "At Bonnie's the other night, when you were with Marie, I don't think I saw anything so beautiful in my life." Elena laughed quietly.  
>"Marie is gorgeous, isn't she?" Damon shook his head with a laugh.<p>

"Not Marie. /You./ You were so purely happy I couldn't hardly keep my eyes off of you." Elena felt a heat crawl across her skin at his compliment. First time, hundredth: his words always made her blush. "I've learned about you all over again the past weeks. You've helped me in every way possible. You've sat by my side endlessly. I can't thank you enough for putting up with me." He watched her and she watched him. Damon cautiously rose a hand and caressed her cheek, as if she might run. Much to his pleasure, she fell into it, missing those soft touches. When she opened her eyes, his were on her again, warm and vulnerable only for her, and lost on some level she couldn't quite reach. She covered his hand with hers and squeezed it gently as she pressed lips to his palm.

"I love you, Elena Gilbert," he spoke. It was soft and low, but it was as good as a yell. Almost a month since she'd heard those words. They ran through her like a jolt. Exhilarated her. This was everything she needed to hear. To know he was in love and that he was still hers. She was stunned for a second, but she closed what space was between them. Lips met and at that moment, she felt the happiest she had in ages. That passion only Damon Salvatore had began to show as he returned her kiss.

"I love you," she breathed. Not that she had to tell him. She'd said it a hundred times to him in the past weeks, and she was always greeted with some tiny, remorseful smile. Not now. His hands had long left their cradling on her cheeks and were on her waist, pulling her up from the table with him. She felt his lips twitch and before she could question it, he'd scooped her off the floor. She let out a squeal of delight, kissing the side of his neck as he started down the hall.

"I love it when you do that," she whispered beside his ear as he let her fall onto the bed. She sat up, and his lips found hers again as he crawled over her. His heated kiss powered a flame through her. No kiss like that in the world existed but here. Damon slowly started down the column of her neck. She could feel as he undid each button that kept her skin separated from his. Those agile fingers hadn't forgotten how to work, and soon they had meandered down her body, gracing places that drove her crazy with desire. It was like he knew, and right now she wouldn't be objected to saying he was lying about his memory. /The proximity/. She grabbed at his shirt, wanting to pull him back to her, but he lithely slid right out, continuing to carefully pepper her abdomen in feather-soft kisses.

"Some things like to sit in the back of my bruised mind," he mumbled against her as if he were reading her mind. She let out a breathy, hitched laugh.

"What else is sitting back there that I should know about?" she teased. And for a moment she was absolutely happy. It wasn't the sex. It was the righteousness of it, of him, and complete and total normality. He still loved her. The thing she dreaded for weeks after his injury had been eradicated with three simple words. Her fear was over nothing. He still knew her like the back of his hand. He still loved her like nothing else. He just didn't know who she was.


End file.
